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jimgoad.net :: money for nothing

Money For Nothing

Strippers Only Strip You of Cash, You Stupid Fucking Idiot

As an adult heterosexual man with low-lying balls and impeccable taste, I’m bewildered that any red-blooded male can spend even a dollar in a strip club without feeling like an absolute fucking idiot.

Granted, I’m afflicted with an innate, lifelong ability to actually get laid, so I suffer some personal bias. I pride myself on never having spent a dollar for actual sex, so chances are I’d be standing on a ledge slitting my wrists if I ever wasted a buck in exchange for the false idea of getting sex.

Nature has given me a hunger for food, but I’d demonstrate Mongoloid-level intelligence if I were to walk into a pizza shop and peel off a few dollar bills merely to ogle greasy pepperoni slices from behind steamy glass.

My urge for shelter is likewise basic and primal, but please put a bullet in my head if I’m ever so brain-dead that I hand somebody a ten-spot for the privilege of looking at an apartment for ten minutes.

And yet there you sit at the rack, peeling off dollars like a monkey peels bananas. You’re surrounded by other grinning sexual cripples who also feel no shame throwing cash at a naked woman who will never have sex with them. Strip clubs exist only to strip men of their money. That’s why they call them STRIP clubs, you stupid asshole. You pay women to show you what they AREN’T going to give you. Part of the DEAL is that they aren’t going to give it to you, and yet you agree to the deal…every fucking time. There’s enough humiliation in being a john who needs to pay prostitutes for sex, but you’re not even a john; you’re like a mini-john. Even the johns laugh heartily at your misfortune and folly.

Oh, what—you think she’s smiling at you because she likes you and actually would ever consider, even in her most desperately jonesing moments, having sex with you? See if her smile lasts longer than ten seconds without a tip. And see what the bouncers do to you if you so much as try touching her vadge. You’ll be eating out of a straw for a year.

There are three types of people in a strip club: owners, strippers, and suckers. It’s one of the quickest and easiest ways to tell whether someone’s an idiot: Do they go to strip clubs and give money to women for the privilege of not having sex with them? Whoa—look! She has a vagina! And look—she’s slithering around on that slimy brass pole! I think I’ll throw some money at her! Sitting there with your mouth hanging open like a helplessly hooked fish, you don’t feel like a jerkoff? Then what a jerkoff you are! If you don’t feel like an idiot in such a situation, trust me—you’re an idiot. It’s scientifically and spiritually impossible to engage in such behavior without achieving automatic lifetime citizenship in Doucheville, USA. You’re the Joker at the bottom of the deck. You’ve been had. Played. You’ve been picked clean, a pathetic bony chicken cadaver of a man. You’re a mark. A rube. You’re the Anti-Pimp. You can’t tell the difference between getting fucked over and actually fucking someone.

With each dollar you toss at a stripper’s dirty feet, you willingly surrender another reason for respecting yourself. You must feel like the Champeen of the World with your $10 drinks and your $50 dollar lap dances, too. So what return do you get on your investment, Champ? You get a memory of a naked woman’s body that you project onto the back of your scrawny skull while you jerk off on the toilet in your mother’s basement. Are you proud of this?

You should be ashamed of yourself, and not in some prudish Victorian sense—your self-esteem should evaporate in light of the fact that you can’t satisfy your natural urges in the natural way. If you could actually get laid, you’d actually be getting laid instead of sitting there at the rack with your thumb up your ass, drooling like a malnourished albino chimp.

Going to a strip club is like standing on a city street corner ringing a Salvation Army bell while wearing an I CAN’T GET LAID sandwich board. Don’t get mad at me for waving this Truth Flag in your face. I’m only showing you some “tough love.” None of this is my fault. I didn’t create the cluster of problems that prevent you from getting laid. I didn’t give you that face, that personality, or that IQ. God did. Blame God. But I can state without hesitation that throwing dollar bills at a stripper will not solve any of your numerous bio-socio-sexual problems.

Scientific tests have proven that the average IQ in a strip club ranges from 70 on the low end to 73 on the high end. As with everything, there are exceptions. Pissing away cash at a strip joint doesn’t automatically mean you’re unintelligent; it merely means the mathematical possibility of it is extremely high. Personally, I can’t tell whether strip clubs are a result of brain damage or the cause of it.

I’ve never given a dollar to a stripper, but I’ve known a few of them more intimately than you could ever hope to know them. I have an insider’s tip for you: THEY HATE YOU. Rare was the stripper who actually respected herself, but NONE of them respected you. Without exception, every stripper I’ve ever bedded thought you were all fools. Every one of them despised and derided and ridiculed and loathed you for blithely tossing your paycheck under their high heels. A few of them even related fantasies of murdering their customers. They didn’t want to fuck any of you, but they felt entirely justified taking your cash, anyway.

Keep all that in mind the next time you hand over even one lonely crumpled dollar to a stripper. Be my guest—empty your pockets and toss all your cash at some brain-damaged sexual-abuse casualty who can’t wait to run back to the dressing room and puke at the thought of you. It makes PERFECT fucking sense.

There’s no shame in lowering your standards. Be a man, for Christ’s sake, and go out and grab someone willing to fuck you for free. She’s out there somewhere, no matter how deformed. Swallow a big Reality Pill and realize that schtupping an ugly drunken one-armed woman from a local bar is far less degrading than throwing money into the bottomless hole of a better-looking woman who would never fuck you.

When you’re very young, very dumb, and filled to the gills with cum—but with no sexual experience whatsoever and no access to willing nubiles—perhaps strip clubs could serve a sort of educational, show-and-tell purpose. But this is a suitable excuse only for the VERY young. Going to strip clubs should only be illegal if you’re OVER 18. After that age, it’s fucking pathetic.